Miggy's POV
We talked over dinner, but not about the case Willie the investigator was handling. Instead, our conversation flowed from community matters to current events—even politics made its way in.
As usual, I ordered a drink while we eased into the real reason for this meeting.
"How did things go with what you had to take care of?" Uncle finally asked, his tone gentle but direct.
Then he leaned forward and laid out a few documents on the table—something I'd come to expect from him when things got serious.
"I don't want to keep wandering around anymore," he began. "I found out that Teresa died two years ago. She was in that bus crash—the one that went viral, the one that fell off a cliff. She was one of the passengers."
He handed me the death certificate, and it felt like the air in the room shifted.
"She wasn't with her daughter at the time," he continued. "The girl was at school. After Teresa passed, the child ended up with a neighbor who raised her for a few years. But that guardian eventually died of illness. Since then, she's been living alone in that same old house—her guardian's place."
I couldn't speak. I just stared at Willie as he went on.
"She's in college now. Studying at a state university in Bulacan. Waitresses in the evenings to pay her way. Sometimes she picks up shifts at a bar nearby. She's been doing it all herself, sir."
I glanced at uncle Rick, who rubbed his forehead and looked down, as if the weight of everything was finally pressing too hard.
"Did you see her?" I asked, unable to hide the urgency in my voice. "Have you visited her work?"
"Once," he said. "I dropped by, but when I went back, she didn't show. She had exams."
My chest tightened. I looked away, ashamed of everything I had and everything she didn't.
"She's been working so hard to survive," I muttered. "While I grew up in comfort—two parents, more than enough to live on. She deserved that too. She didn't choose this. Dad had the means to support her, and yet…"
The guilt threatened to swallow me whole. "I pity her. My sister. She deserves more than this life she was forced to fight through. I don't even know who to blame anymore. Teresa, for staying away? Dad, for his silence? Myself, for doing nothing when I didn't know better? I want to help her now. I have to."
But as quickly as the thought formed, another name echoed in my mind—Mom.
I froze.
How was I supposed to tell her? How would she ever understand? Even if she could, I didn't think she'd want to. The pain Dad left her with was still fresh, still alive in every breath she took.
"I want to help her," I said, voice low. "For Dad. For everything he failed to do. I know he betrayed Mommy. I was hurt, too, learning all this. But she's still my sister. And he's still my father."
Uncle nodded; eyes heavy. "I know. But your mom… How do we tell her?"
"I don't know." I shook my head. "But maybe it's time I bring Uncle Manuel into this. He might help me break the news to her when the time comes. Because I can't keep hiding it forever. The longer I do, the more my conscience eats me alive."
Uncle placed a steady hand on my shoulder. "We'll talk to Manuel together."
I exhaled, relief washing through me. I knew uncle Rick wouldn't let me face this alone.
"But you need to be careful," he added. "Your mom can't find out—not yet."
"I understand. But how do we tell her… when it's time?"
"We'll plan it. Carefully," Tito said. "She deserves that much."
Then I turned to Willie. "Can you… maybe talk to her? Try to build a connection? Get to know her first. Maybe it'll help when we finally introduce ourselves."
"No problem, sir," he replied without hesitation. "I'll do it."
That night, our meeting ran late. Too late for me to go back to Uncle Manuel's. I called home—told Mommy and uncle I had to work overtime. A lie, but I couldn't give them the truth. Not yet.
I didn't send Meynard home either. He was too tired, and I didn't have the energy to play boss tonight.
I tried to sleep, but my body resisted. I kept tossing and turning. I didn't even pour myself a drink like I usually would. I just sat on the veranda, watching the flickering city lights and the quiet flow of traffic below. But my mind—blank. Numb. Maybe overloaded.
The morning came too soon. I moved like a zombie through the apartment.
"Didn't sleep well again?" Meynard asked, eyeing me with concern as I sat with my coffee.
I only shook my head.
He sighed and walked to the kitchen. A few minutes later, he called me over for breakfast—toast, bacon, and eggs. The fridge was nearly empty. I hadn't been home much. I'd been with Mommy at Uncle Manuel's.
I tried to eat to make up for the sleep I missed. I needed energy for work. I couldn't afford to let my personal issues bleed into the office.
But during a presentation that morning, I drifted off again. Their ideas sounded solid, but I couldn't process anything. I ended the meeting quickly; told them I'd review their concept and give feedback later. I didn't want them to think I didn't care. I did. I was just somewhere else entirely.
Over lunch, Meynard snapped me back.
"Sir, Andrew's team is asking if you're going to the shoot on Saturday."
"If nothing goes wrong, I'll be there," I said casually. But the truth? I was already planning to go. I needed to see her again.
"They mentioned one of our client's executives might show up," he added.
"All the more reason to go," I replied. "So, it won't look too personal."
Because the truth was—it was personal. I was trying to be careful. I didn't usually attend commercial shoots unless necessary, and I rarely stayed long. But this time… she would be there. And that changed everything.
I didn't want anyone noticing how I looked at her. I already admitted it to myself—I liked her. But I wasn't ready to let the world know. I preferred privacy. Even Meynard didn't know. If he did, he'd never let me hear the end of it.
"You coming with me on Saturday?" I asked, more out of habit than expectation.
"Of course."
"You sure? Don't you have a date with Shane?"
"She's working. I'll pick her up after the shoot."
"You sure she's not sulking with how busy we've been lately?"
"No, sir. We talk about everything. She understands why I work hard—it's for us, for the future. And her family's relying on her too."
"Sounds like you've got something good there."
He smiled. "If I were you, sir, I'd start looking for someone to love. Someone to be with for good."
"And how did this become about me?" I laughed, trying to deflect.
"Because we've talked enough about my love life. It's your turn."
"Oh no. You think I have time for romance right now? My life's a mess. And if I meet someone, she'll just get caught in all this chaos. I don't want that for her."
"You've got a point. Maybe when everything's settled."
"Exactly. Right now, I need to focus on Mommy. Soon, she'll have to face the truth we've all been hiding from her."
Meynard rubbed his chin like he was deep in thought.
"What now?" I narrowed my eyes.
"Just thinking…" he said. "You're not getting any younger, bro. If you start looking for a partner now, it'll take months just for the getting-to-know stage. Then courtship. Then who knows how long before you pop the question…"
I threw a piece of toast at him, and he burst out laughing.
For a moment, things felt lighter. But deep down, I knew the weight was still there—waiting for me to face it.
It's strange how life works sometimes. No matter how serious our problems are, God has a way of keeping things balanced. I never imagined, not even in my wildest dreams, that my life would turn into this kind of chaos. I grew up happy and well-loved—by my parents, by my friends. Everything used to be simple.
But now, I feel like I'm standing in the middle of a minefield. One wrong step, and everything could explode. And if that happens, I won't be the only one who gets hurt—others will be caught in the blast too. That's why, no matter how heavy my situation is, I need to stay strong. I need to be brave enough to navigate carefully, to watch every step I take. Even if I'm hurting, I can't allow myself to make a move that will cause others even more pain.
It's a heavy burden to carry—knowing that everything depends on me, on how I handle things, on how I can balance truth and compassion. Because whatever choice I make, someone will get hurt. But if I can just hold it together, if I can manage to set things right without tipping the scale too far, maybe I can avoid the worst of it.
Gone are the days when I used to drift aimlessly in my thoughts—obsessing over Daddy's other child, over Teresa, over Mommy. But even now, with all these problems clouding my mind, there's still something—or someone—that makes me smile. Someone who, for reasons I don't fully understand yet, brings a quiet joy only I can feel. I haven't told anyone about it—not even Meynard. I don't know why I'm keeping it to myself. Maybe because I don't quite understand it either.
All I know is that every time I see her—just seeing her—I feel lighter. Happier. Even if we don't speak, even from a distance, seeing her smile makes my heart race. She feels like the balance I need in a life that's spinning out of control. She's the quiet strength I draw from. The one reason I want to keep going.
From the moment I saw her, I knew something was different. I couldn't explain it. There were no words. All I knew was that I wanted to know more about her. But I also knew I couldn't—at least not now. So, I just look at her from afar, content with what little moments I get.
Saturday morning came. I woke up earlier than usual, excited—though I'd never admit it. I told myself to act normal, but honestly, my heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest.
"Sir, Sir Meynard is already here," said one of the helpers as they brought in the food for breakfast.
"Please ask him to join me," I said, already at the table, halfway through my meal. Mommy was just coming downstairs.
"Maybe he's in the garage checking out my car."
"Good morning," Mommy greeted, giving me a kiss on the cheek.
"Good morning, Mom."
"Didn't you say you have a commercial shoot today?"
I gave her a sheepish smile. "I almost forgot. If you hadn't seen me dressed already, you probably would've thought I was just heading out with friends."
"Why? Is there something else we need to do today?"
She sipped her coffee. "Carla and I are heading out later. I have an appointment with the psychiatrist."
"How are you doing so far?"
"I'm okay," she said. "I'm starting to enjoy the sessions. It helps to have someone to talk to. I've also stopped drinking. Though I still struggle to sleep sometimes—it's better than before."
We were in the middle of our quiet conversation when Meynard walked in.
"Good morning," he greeted, heading to the table.
"Good morning, son. Come eat with us," Mommy said warmly.
"Good morning," I echoed, nodding toward the seat beside me. He smiled and sat down.
His aunt and uncle arrived shortly after.
"Good morning!" they both greeted.
"Morning. You got ahead of us," Mommy said, chuckling.
"That's okay," aunt replied, settling at the table. "As long as there's food on the table, it doesn't matter if you start without us."
Uncle took a sip of coffee and asked, "Do you have work today?"
"There's a shoot for a commercial," I explained. "I need to drop by because the big boss is visiting."
After we finished eating, Meynard and I stood up together.
"We'll head out now. Thanks for breakfast," Meynard said politely.